Peace, peace he is not dead, he doth not sleep He hath awaken from the dream of life.
Peace, peace he is not dead, he doth not sleep He hath awaken from the dream of life.
Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam, Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
And all the Dreams that watch'd Urania's eyes,
And all the Echoes whom their sister's song
Had held in holy silence, cried: "Arise!
Waking or asleep,
Thou of death must deem
Things more true and deep
Than we mortals dream,
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep
Spread far around and inaccessibly
Its circles?
He eagerly pursues
Beyond the realms of dream that fleeting shade;
He overleaps the bounds.
And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
And every motion, odour, beam and tone,
With that deep music is in unison:
Which is a soul within the soul--they seem
Like echoes of an antenatal dream.
As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay
This was the tenour of my waking dream.
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories